


Blue Christmas

by Morvaine



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Alone on Christmas, Christmas Music, Mentions of Elvis Presley Songs, SUFFER WITH ME, and bad at boundaries, changes spoilers, im sorry that goodbye microfiction broke me, kincaid is bad at relationships, microfiction contest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:28:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27691387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morvaine/pseuds/Morvaine
Summary: It's the first time in years that Kincaid has spent Christmas without Ivy. He's handling it the best he can.
Relationships: The Archive & Jared Kincaid
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	Blue Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Created as an Entry for the Jim-Butcher . com microfiction contest. This work contains spoilers for events in Changes. I reccommend reading after you've read Jim's microfiction 'Goodbye'.

I don’t celebrate Christmas. Never have, the Big Guy and I aren’t on great terms. Haven't been for a long long time now.  
But, The Archive does celebrate, and so I stick around for that holy day.  
Because I’m paid to, nothing more.  
At least, that's what I keep telling myself.  
So I Kincaid, The Hellhound, guard dog for hire, wear a Santa hat on Christmas day.  
Ivy loves Christmas, not so much the holiday, but the spirit of it. She is also a stickler for experiencing traditional holidays, being who she is.  
The festivities, the pretty lights, the way the snow softens the sound of the city. She finds comfort in the way humanity comes together to share gifts, food, and huddle together through the long winter. So, every year I help her set up a tree and get her a gift. 

I took a long drag of a cigarette, and stared out at the silent night. The snow was coming down softly, layering in snowdrifts that will be a bitch to shovel in the morning.  
Ivy hates me smoking, says it’ll kill me one of these days. I don’t smoke around her, naturally. Secondhand smoke is no good for her developing lungs.  
I put out the cigarette and sipped my whiskey, Christmas carols playing in the background on my radio. Ivy’s first Christmas with me hadn’t been very remarkable, though she was intelligent for a 5 year-old. That was about the time when she realized she needed someone with more muscle around, and had outgrown the need for a babysitter. Smart kid.  
That year, I got her a bicycle. I was told it was a good gift for a little girl. Besides, it had pink sparkly streamers. I pretended not to see her smile with delight as she rode the bike. She already knew how, but I hung around to make sure she didn’t hurt herself.

I got up to check on the egg nog I was making. Ivy always insisted it was better from scratch and had been very particular in teaching me how to make it, since she couldn’t reach the stove. She liked hers hot, with whip cream and sprinkled cinnamon. She’d always wrinkle her nose when I’d add rum into mine.  
I poured some carefully into a thermos, added some whipped cream and sprinkled cinnamon on it. I finished my whiskey, and headed out the door, grabbing a box of presents on the way out. It was almost midnight, and I needed to beat Old Saint Nick.  
I drove carefully through the streets, some of which had yet to be plowed. My first stop was in Bucktown, to a rather pleasant little home belonging to a former officer. Making sure the resident was asleep, I carefully dropped off a small box of Belgian chocolates. There was no sense in adding a message, she could make a wild guess. I hadn’t talked to her in months now. Probably wouldn’t ever again.  
My next stop was a grave in Graceland, finally filled in after years of being held open. But I knew there wasn’t a body there. I laid down a bundle of poinsettias, the only flower I could find in stores this time of year. 

I’m not sure you were worth it, you damned bastard. But a job is a job, and I keep my word. 

I had to get a move on before the eggnog had cooled too much.  
My last stop was on the outskirts of the city, where the Archive was currently staying. She had access to a small home here, acquired in the past few years due to how often she found herself in Chicago. Through the window, I could see a Christmas tree, decorated with red garland and holly berries. The Star was haphazardly placed on top of the tree, dropping slightly. The security system was active, and the door was warded with something impressive, and very very lethal. I didn’t spot any security guards, but the neighborhood was gated and patrolled. Moving silently, I placed the thermos by the front door. I pulled out an empty Christmas card, and wrote: “For Ivy”. I didn’t sign it, she already knew. I grabbed the last gift, a small silver necklace of Ivy leaves in a box, and placed it next to the thermos. I hurried away, the cold wind stinging my eyes and making them water.  
Yeah, just the wind. Nothing else.  
I haven’t seen her in months now. Ever since...I shook my head. What a mess.  
I got home just after midnight, glad to be out of the cold. Hey, even if you are the unholy spawn of a demon, that doesn’t mean you have to like freezing your ass off.  
Christmas carols coming softly over the radio, I poured a glass of rum with a touch of eggnog. 

Ivy would be fine on her own. I can reach the pedals now. 

I took a swig out of the bottle of rum, having finished the eggnog.  
I started working on cleaning my guns, it was important to make sure they were in top shape, and they would be a distraction before my next job. Not that I needed to be distracted. Just before dawn and a bottle of rum later, the eggnog now abandoned, the dulcet tones of The King started playing over the radio

“...And when those blue snowflakes start fallin’ ”  
Ivy was a stickler for tradition. She’d never let you open presents early, insisting that it had to be on Christmas morning. This of course, meant she’d wake me up at 6 AM before the sun even rose, the brat.

“That's when those blue memories start callin' ”  
I had finished cleaning my regular weapons at this point and had moved onto the various blades in the house. It was always just a job, and that all I needed it to be. She was a client.  
Her favorite reindeer was Dancer. 

“You'll be doin' all right, with your Christmas of white”  
Ivy loved glass ornaments, red holly berries, popcorn garland. If she had her way, she’d use real candles to light up the tree. Thankfully, I had managed to convince her that LEDs worked just as well, and wouldn’t burn her house to the ground. I had to hold her up to put the star on the tree, even as of last year.

“But I'll have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas”  
At this point, the stench of gun cleaner was overwhelming, and it was making my eyes water. I shot a dirty look at the radio before throwing a knife at it, ending The King’s Serenade.  
It was 6 am, and Ivy wasn’t there.


End file.
